


Empty Seats

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [30]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2279871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a butterfly wakes Byakuya for an early morning meeting, Renji is is left alone to wonder about who will fill the empty captain's seats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Seats

Renji woke up to the sounds of Byakuya muttering to himself as he dressed. Sunlight streaked in from the balcony, but from the quality of it, Renji guessed it couldn’t be more than an hour past dawn. “What’s going on?”

“A captain’s meeting,” Byakuya said tersely, as he hunted through his dresser drawers for a fresh pair of tabi. 

“At this hour?” Renji asked. With a yawn, he rubbed the sleep from his face. “Must be important.”

Byakuya stopped rummaging long enough to pierce Renji with a frustrated glare. “Hardly. It’s to do with the empty captaincies.”

Renji sat up. Not that long ago, Sasakibe had intimated that Renji had a shot at taking the Fifth. But, he’d gotten no summons. No butterfly had come for him.

Byakuya must have seen something on Renji’s face or been thinking along the same lines, because he said, “I will recommend you, should your name come up.” 

“It won’t,” Renji reassured him, because Byakuya didn’t seem very happy about the prospect at all. He nearly flung his clothes around. “Anyway,” Renji said, “I already said ‘no.’”

“Why would you do such a thing?” The haori flared like a cape as Byakuya swirled it through his arms. 

Twisting his fists into the sheets, Renji frowned down at his lap. His hair fell into his eyes and he blew it away with an irritated huff. “You don’t think I’m ready. You said so yourself.” He glanced up. “Anyway, I told you. I want to feel like I figured out how to be a lieutenant first before I go running off.”

Byakuya stood by the dressing table affixing the kenseikan. His eyes strayed to Renji’s in the reflection in the mirror. “You would be no worse than some,” Byakuya said. A hard mask had settled over his face, as cold and distant as the bone and white jade of the kenseikan. “More importantly, we would be of the same military rank. Fraternization could no longer threaten us.”

Looking away, Renji told the wall, “I can’t say I don’t want it, but I ain’t ready to leave.” Renji shook his head, trying to untangle all his complicated feelings. He gave up with a sigh. “We don’t have to worry about it. It ain’t going to happen. They can’t trust me after Rukia and I’m too close to Ichigo.”

“Who else do they have?” Byakuya snipped, as he finished with his hair and adjusting the kenseikan, “Far better you than the Eleventh’s Third Seat.”

“Ikkaku won’t leave Kenpachi,” Renji said. Finally dragging his ass out of bed, he came over to smooth out the haori’s fabric at Byakuya’s shoulder and adjust the collar. “And, I keep telling you, his bankai is supposed to be a secret.”

“He should stop flashing it around then,” Byakuya said. Keeping his back to Renji, his eyes remained downcast, “And you should get dressed. You’re distracting me.”

Renji laughed heartily as Byakuya swept away, but he said, “Hai, Taicho!”

#

Byakuya flashed only as far as the next Division before stopping to purchase tea. Eishirõ had, of course, pressed a bowl into his hand before he left the estate, but there had not been enough of it. Byakuya’s head started to ache. 

The queue parted to allow Byakuya to the front and the vender nearly banged his head on his cart when he dropped to genuflect. Byakuya ignored it all and said simply, “Tea. Your strongest,” and then he remembered to add, “And largest.”

As he waited for his order, Byakuya frowned, thinking about the captain’s meeting. Who could the third candidate be? Certainly they would tap Renji, and possibly Madarame. That left one unknown. Could it be another one of the Kenpachi’s crew? Could someone like Iba have quietly and quickly gained bankai? 

It wouldn’t surprise Byakuya--frustrate, yes, but surprise, no. 

“400 ken,” the shopkeeper stuttered as he handed over a large cup made of some strange almost spongy material—Styrofoam, perhaps? Byakuya thought he remembered Rukia with something like this when they were last in the Human World together. 

Not having anything smaller than a 10,000 ken note, Byakuya handed it over with a “No change necessary.”

The shopkeeper took the bill, even though he looked ready to faint at the sight of it. Clutching the paper in his hand, he started bowing incessantly and repeating breathlessly: “Thank you, my lord. Thank you very much!”

Byakuya was uncertain what to do with all the gratefulness, and, at any rate, the cup was so full, he was in danger of spilling it. “Are there lids?”

One appeared in Byakuya’s field of vision, delicately held by a massive, clawed paw. Byakuya glanced up… and up to see the semi-armored figure of Captain Komamura. The Captain inclined his head in greeting. In his deep, rumbling voice, he said, “Welcome to my neighborhood, Captain Kuchiki.” 

“Captain Komamura,” Byakuya acknowledged, taking the lid, quietly impressed that such a giant could move so silently, his reiatsu so well camouflaged. Though now that Byakuya was aware of it, he could sense the other captain’s presence--natural and sturdy, like the stone beneath their feet. “May I buy you tea?”

The shopkeeper looked ecstatic at the idea, but the captain shook his head. “Not much of tea drinker, I’m afraid.”

Blasphemy, Byakuya thought to himself. Instead, he turned in the direction of the First Division where he was certain Komamura was also headed and asked, “Will it be your Iba?”

“For what?” Komamura asked, walking beside Byakuya.

“The empty captaincy,” Byakuya said. “I can only think of two others who have achieved bankai among our ranks.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard,” Komamura said. “The divisions are being assigned… well, perhaps ‘RE-assigned’ to their former captains.”

“I’m afraid I know very little about these people,” Byakuya said. “Only that their leaving left… a hole.”

He meant, of course in his own heart, and not just the empty seats they left behind. Not them, per se, but who else they swept away with them….

He was old enough to understand it, but all the politics had gone in one ear and out the other. The only thing Byakuya truly remembered about that time was that he’d been so stupidly eager to be clan head--not fully realizing that the only way he’d achieve that was if everyone were dead.

The one person that could have comforted him and understood during that awful time had left him for this tangled mess of missing captains and a traitorous Research and Development scientist. 

And Byakuya’s last words to her? “Come back here, you bitch.”

The thought of it still tore at his heart a little…. Though, he might have been more comforted, had he actually managed to catch that annoying hellcat that day.

Damn her, anyway.

But he supposed he had. Damned her, that is. She hadn’t come back, after all.

“Do you know much about these former captains?” Byakuya asked, wondering exactly what had prompted their return. Were these outcasts truly more trustworthy than Renji? Byakuya could only fathom that they must have distinguished themselves in the field in some spectacular way. “You saw them fight?”

“I did,” Komamura said with a nod. The sun glinted off his rusty fur; sharp fangs gleamed yellow. “They were… strong.”

Byakuya raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his tea. That was a very cagey answer from someone like Captain Komamura. “There’s some secret to them?” Byakuya guessed, “Something you’re uncomfortable with?”

“They call themselves Vizards.” Komamura made a motion with his claw in front of his muzzle, like snapping down the faceplate on an armored helmet. “They have a mask.”

“Like a Hollow’s mask.” The image of Kurosaki’s “other” sprang instantly to Byakuya’s mind, as Senbonzakura sang out a tremulous warning. To cover the uneasiness roiling through his stomach, Byakuya nodded. “I’ve seen this.”

“Yet, we would not have won the battle without their aid,” Komamura said. “Nor Ichigo Kurosaki’s… and he is the same as they are. They were his teachers.”

Byakuya let out an unhappy breath. “You’ve already accepted them.”

Komamura’s smile was carefully closed-mouthed, making his stiff whiskers twitch. “How can someone like myself deny anyone a captaincy? They are strong. They are our allies. The blood they shed for our cause, the injuries sustained on the field—they earned their seats with it.”

Byakuya considered this, but was forced to agree. “No soul could argue honor with you, Captain Komamura, and hope to win. However, when word spreads outside the Gotei that there are captains who are partly Hollowfied, I expect certain members of my family to drop dead on the spot or possibly spontaneously implode.”

Komamura was silent for several moments as they walked along the street, but then a claw dug in his ear, and he said, “You’re speaking metaphorically, of course. That’s… a joke?”

The tension between Byakuya’s eyes wound up a notch at the thought of what Aunt Masama would make of this new development. “If only it were.”

#

Renji thought about going back to bed. He didn’t have to be on duty until much later in the afternoon. To do that, the sheets needed changing first, and damned if he could figure out where the linens were stored. Given the size of the estate, Renji figured there must be a nearby supply, but apparently not… and honestly, after about five minutes of snooping through tansu, that got awkward fast.

Who knew Byakuya had bought out all the books and the porno magazines from that sex shop, too?! 

Welp, that certainly explained why Byakuya always seemed to have a new skillset every time they got together. He was clearly reading all the things. Many of which had… pictures. Renji slid the drawer back quickly before he found himself not only distracted, but also hot and bothered.

Even if he had found clean sheets, Renji was kind of jolted awake now. So, he might as well start his day. He grabbed his robe, uniform, and Zabimaru. Once the robe was on and tied up, Renji tucked everything under his arm and headed for the sento—only to run right into the young heir again. 

“Um,” the heir blushed, glancing around Renji to the master suite. “Is his lordship… still asleep?”

“Gone, I’m afraid. Some kind of o’fuck o’clock captain’s meeting,” Renji said, sliding the door closed. At the same moment he thought maybe he should’ve taken the servant’s secret passageway to avoid all the Kuchiki-awkward, he suddenly realized he’d just swore in front of someone who looked about twelve. “Uh… pardon my French, and all.”

The heir smiled that broad grin that was far more reminiscent of Captain Kyōraku’s big belly laugh than any non-expression ever expressed by a Kuchiki. “It’s fine. I have heard the words,” he winked. Then, after they stood in the hall a few moments not knowing what to say to each other the heir asked, “Are you headed to the baths? Can I join you?”

Renji’s first inclination was to say ‘why not!?” If Shinobu was headed in the same direction, they might as well pass the time together. He seemed like an interesting kid, too, and Renji’d kind of been dying to find out what Aunt Masama had said about Byakuya and him.

Masama. That was what stopped Renji when he started to nod ‘okay’ Even though she was gone, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the clan might think and there was probably a whole sento full of family right now. If people spotted two of them together, somehow it would all turn wrong and Renji would be accused of something untoward--even if it was only trying to get close to the kid, influence him. 

“Uh, I was, but you know, I can’t really.” He pointed to his chest and the tattoos hidden beneath the robe. “Not with all these… and your family being around.”

Fuck, what was Renji going to do for a bath now? Damn it all, he was going to have to try to track down Eishirō and beg him for the use of a private tub again. He’d feel bad about that, though. Eishirõ would never let Renji fill the tub himself, but he must be stretched to his limits with all the extra Kuchiki still hanging around waiting for the big birthday.

The other option was to hoof it all the way to the Eleventh’s sento, but that was all the fuck way across the Seireitei and the water was never as nice as the hot springs.

“Could we not?” the heir asked. “I’ve yet to go to the onsen myself. I hear it’s the pride of the Kuchiki estate.”

Renji thought again about the reaction he’d probably get to all his tats. No way was that kind of talk going to be good for Byakuya’s relationship with his clan. Then, an idea started to form and he started talking his way into it: “I bet you could get Eishirō to clear ‘em all out. Okay, here’s the deal. You ring for the house steward and. I don’t know, tell him you’re feeling modest or something. Or, fuck that, tell him the truth—tell him you want to bathe with me. I bet Eishirõ would drive hoards of naked Kuchiki from the onsen just to make sure no one saw my ink.”

Shinobu considered this all very carefully. With a child-like determined nod, he said, “I can do that.”

#

Byakuya wasn’t sure he approved of these Vizards, not one bit. 

The once-former-now-reinstated Captain Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi seemed passably decent enough. Kensei Muguruma made no impression other than ‘you need sleeves; no wonder you’ve been given the 9th they seem to have some kind of allergic reaction to sleeves.’ 

However, Shinji Hirako was downright annoying.

First of all, no one should talk that fast this early in the morning and… have so many teeth, especially with that…. accent. With his eyes closed, Byakuya could almost conjure him again, with his evil, foxy smirk…

Gin.

And to be given the 5th, with an illusion zanpakutō? It was like some kind of horrible collage of… horribleness. 

Ugh. Byakuya needed more tea. He could hardly think straight.

At least there was bound to be more tea at the reception he would be forced to suffer through. 

Given the hour, several captains did not make the gathering—both Kenpachi and Kyōraku seemed to be sleeping in, or possibly still drunk from the night before. It was well understood by most people that anything before noon was far too early for either the 11th or 8th Division.

Ukitake was also absent. Ill, everyone assumed. 

Very convenient, that excuse. Byakuya wished he’d thought to make more of his clan business so he could have an easy out for these stupid gatherings.

He let out a breath, realizing just how angry he was. And hurt, on Renji’s behalf.

The Fifth should be Renji’s. Yes, they’d a reputation for kidō which Renji could never continue, but that little lieutenant—Hinamori was it?—surely, she would appreciate her old Academy colleague far more than someone with the exact same zanpakutō release type as the man who’d betrayed her and stabbed her—TWICE. Even though it might be little awkward with a contemporary at first, she must prefer a friend, a known factor. 

Besides, a gruff Inuzuri accent had to be much more tolerable than all that talking, non-stop, reminding everyone of Gin with every utterance.

And why tell everyone that horrible thing about his name? Did he think he was introducing himself to a high school class?

Byakuya followed the line of captains as they made their way to the small reception hall. 

“Ain’t changed much in a hundred some years, has it? I suppose not much does around here.” Hirako said, twirling that funny hat as his smile turned into a sour grimace. “Except us.”

At that moment, with those words, Byakuya finally sensed it—the mood of the room. Through his tea-less fog, Byakuya suddenly realized that everyone had been holding their breaths, waiting for someone to say something about before, about the incident, or about their difference.

“If it’s awkward, I could take it away,” Captain Kurotsuchi suggested, admiring his long fingernail. His eyes, jaundiced-seeming with the white paint surrounding them, glanced up. “Say the word.”

The head captain shouldered his way to the table with the treats muttering, “We’ll deal with that later. I’m starving; let’s eat.” Quieter, he added, “Before Mayuri gets a chance to inject poison into the food at any rate.”

Deal with ‘that’ later? 

‘That’ was certainly curious. Had the Vizards made some kind of pre-agreement to seal away their masks? Was that even possible? Byakuya frowned at the offerings at the table. Only sweet things that looked suspiciously like some British concoction that Sasakibe was fond of. Worse, instead of tea, there was some kind of reddish liquid in a glass bowl that smelled of fruit. 

Punch? 

Indeed. Byakuya certainly felt like punching someone.

Still, to be polite, he took a teacake. Looking around for someone he could stand to talk to, Byakuya certainly hoped Renji was having a better time.

#

Renji thought Eishirō’s glare was worthy of any Kuchiki. He carefully only directed it at Renji, and bowed deeply to the young heir. The heir had put on a very imperious expression. 

“As you wish, my lord,” Eishirō said. “I shall have it ready for you within the hour. As you wait, I will have breakfast brought. Shall I bring it to your room or here to the master suite?”

“Here is fine,” Shinobu said. “Be sure to bring some for the lieutenant, too! Oh, and thank you very much. I appreciate your efforts. I do understand that I’ve put you out.”

Eishirō startled a little at the effusive thanks. A small smile graced his lips and he sounded actually sincere as he said, “It is my honor to serve you, young lord.”

Huh, Renji thought from where he leaned against the wall behind Shinobu, kid knows how to make friends and influence people--totally a Kyōraku. Could be a devastating combination if he also inherited the Kuchiki ruthlessness. It’d be all, smiles until the hatchet fell. 

‘Course, that still sort of sounded like Kyōraku.

Yikes.

Shinobu had turned to Renji and was looking up at him with glittering eyes, “How’d I do? Did I sound like a clan head?”

Renji snorted a little laugh. “Mostly, though, honestly? Bya—er, Captain Kuchiki would never have said thank you so much.”

“Oh,” Shinobu sounded a little disappointed. “I’d thought that’d been a nice touch. The house steward seemed to appreciate it.”

“He did,” Renji nodded, sliding the door open and gesturing for Shinobu to go inside the suite. “But, Captain Kuchiki would probably tell you that you’re supposed to be above making nice with the servants.”

“That’s dumb,” Shinobu said, his eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the expansive suite. “My mother always says the servants are the ones who control everything. You mess with them and you get spit in your soup.”

Renji’s laugh was full-throated now. “Your mum’s a smart lady.”

Not seeming to hear the compliment, Shinobu ran from room to room, looking at everything. He paused at the door to the bedroom. Renji could almost sense the raging blush, as Shinobu turned away quickly from the rumpled sheets. The young heir seemed to recover quickly, though, and ran off to look at all the other rooms. 

Leaving the boy to explore, Renji settled himself in front of the sunken fireplace in the sitting room. Using a poker, he stoked the embers into a warm glow. It was hard to believe they were deep into the end of January already. It was going to be a cold day for outdoor work. With the smell of snow in the wind, it was probably high time to shift drills to the dojo, at least until Spring. 

Probably, Nanako had already done it.

Renji jabbed at the ember. How could he have hoped to be a captain? He hadn’t even been around enough to make a decent lieutenant. Still, Renji couldn’t regret it. Ichigo made life hella interesting. 

Apparently having exhausted his exploration, Shinobu settled into seiza next to Renji. “Are your suites adjoining? I couldn’t find the door.”

“Oh, uh,” Renji pulled the hair from his face, as he tried to figure out the best way to explain the situation. “I don’t stay full-time. My quarters are at the Division.”

Shinobu’s brows pulled together in confusion. “Aunt Masama said you lived with cousin Byakuya…” he glanced sidelong up at Renji, like he wasn’t sure he ought to say this part out loud, “…like a wife.”

Renji wanted to get angry, but Shinobu didn’t seem particularly disgusted by it. If anything, he seemed curious, like he thought the idea was kind of fascinating.

Before Renji could think of a decent response, Shinobu continued, “My uncle Shunsui lives with Jūshirō like that.” Shinobu smiled happily, “Uncle Jūshirō always has candy!”

Renji’s hand had almost reached up to ruffle Shinobu’s hair, but stopped just in time. “Heh,” he said to Shinobu’s confused look. “It’s just that sometimes you seem almost grown-up, then you say stuff like that. It’s cute.”

Shinobu looked grumpy to be called ‘cute,’ but blushed, too. “I don’t understand. How come you won’t touch me? This is the second time you’ve pulled your hand back.”

Was it? Renji rubbed the back of his neck, feeling once again flummoxed about what to say. “Look,” he said finally, honestly. “You must know, don’t you? I mean, you’re a Kuchiki. A guy like me—I ain’t supposed to go putting my hands on a guy like you.”

Glancing in the direction of the bedroom where the unmade bed was clearly visible, Shinobu said, “But, you do. I mean, if I understand how such things go.” He had to stop to fight a blush. He let out a little breath once he struggled back from wherever his mind had gone. “Anyway, I’m not like cousin Byakuya. The distance between you and I is not that great.”

The naiveté was… kind of heartbreaking. Renji shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, saying something like that. You saw how it was with your aunt the other night. She freaked to think I’d go around with a mon on my back, even if it didn’t mean I owned anything but my strength and my Zabimaru. She must have said stuff about me. You can’t be thinking like there’s no difference, no distance.”

Shinobu frowned, chewing his lip. Finally, he said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

The apparent subject change threw Renji a bit, but he nodded, “Sure. I mean, I guess. Why not?”

“I’ve never seen a house this big…and useless in all my life,” he said seriously. He glanced towards the balcony, out toward the cherry orchard. “That,” he said pointing to the trees, “I understand. My family, we own the East First District in the Rukongai.”

Renji blinked. “Wait, what? All of it?”

“Yes,” Shinobu said, “And, parts of the Second and Third as well. There is a silkworm farm, and many, many rice paddies, and there is also a jade mine. Do you understand? I don’t live in a house like this. I grew up on a farm. A working farm. In the Rukongai.”

Oh.

That was one hell of a secret: because if Aunt Masama knew about this, she’d shit bricks.

Shinobu paused while Aio laid out the trays for breakfast. She graced both Renji and the heir with a small smile, which widened when Shinobu thanked her profusely for her service.

After she left, he explained. “In the country, our servants are more like our colleagues. ‘A foreman who abuses his workers will soon have no workers.’ This is something my father says all the time,” Shinobu said. Even so, Renji took it upon himself to serve the tea. “We own the land, the lion’s share of the profits belong to the clan, but the last Kuchiki who thought he could keep every last ken and grain of rice to himself discovered just how dangerous some farm equipment can be when a wrench is ‘accidentally’ left in the wrong place.” 

Renji set some aji, dried horse mackerel, on Shinobu’s plate before adding some to his own. He could hardly believe there was a Kuchiki like the one the young heir described, but he had an even bigger question on his mind. “How the hell did you keep all this from your aunt?”

Shinobu served Renji some pickled scallions, as he said with a mischievous twinkle: “My mother heard of the search for an heir while she attended court. We prepared the ruse for months. I stayed out of the sun. I ate too much and worked too little.” After setting down the serving chopsticks, he lifted his hands to show Renji their smoothness, “We used pumice on my callouses. We un-shuttered the family estate inside the Seireitei, dusted off the good serving bowls, and brought the rich kimono from out of storage. I look very good on paper, you understand. There’s nothing wrong with my breeding. I am the direct descendant of a very impressive marriage treaty that united two strong clans. I was presented to court at the prescribed time. There’s no fault in my blood.”

“Only your upbringing,” Renji noted, breaking a quail egg over his rice.

“I’m proud of that as well,” Shinobu said with a very Kuchiki sniff. “However, it was clear that the scout—that is, Aunt Masama wouldn’t understand.”

“I bet.”

“Our secret extends back generations,” Shinobu admitted. “My great-grandfather was the first to shutter the estate and move closer to the farmers, becoming one of them. But, he sent his wife, my great-grandmother, to court so that no one would ever know that the old ways had failed. In that way, we have retained much political coin, to be spent to provide for our lands and its people.”

Listening to this, Renji thought maybe he’d been wrong. Combining a Kyōraku and a Kuchiki hadn’t made a laughing ruthless cutthroat at all, but instead, had bred a crafty, unconventional political dynamo, which apparently gave an actual fuck about the peasant workers they owned.

Shinobu looked anxious as he sipped his miso. “Will you tell cousin Byakuya?”

“Ain’t my story to tell,” Renji said plainly. “Though I’m guessing he’d damn proud to hear it.” 

“You really think so?” Shinobu suddenly seemed very child-like again. 

“Captain Kuchiki is a hard worker, too,” Renji said. “He ain’t hoed no row, but he’s a good soldier, a strong fighter. You don’t get that way sitting on your ass, waiting for things to come to you.” Renji added a few pickles to his rice and mixed everything together. “Besides, you must have heard about his first wife, Hisana. She was from Inuzuri like me.”

Shinobu blushed hard again. “Yes, Aunt Masama may have mentioned that a few times.”

Renji guessed with the word ‘bitch’ attached to both Hisana and himself. Swallowing his snarl with a mouthful of fish, he nodded, “Yeah, while I can’t say he always ‘gets’ it, he is fairly motivated to try.”

#

The last person Byakuya expected to end up in conversation with was Soi Fon. 

For the last half hour, he’d skillfully managed to stay on the periphery of what was possibly the most unwelcoming ‘welcoming’ party since Gin’s promotion to captaincy. The awkwardness was made more so when, no less than ten minutes ago, Shinji noticed that the painted fusuma panels had a depiction of an early band of shinigami facing off against a horde of masked Hollows. He’d peered at for a long time and finally said, “Them shinigami look like thugs; I’m rooting for the Hollows.”

Shinji’s comment had nearly provoked Byakuya to ask out loud if it was true that the Vizards had agreed to seal away their powers. He’d opened his mouth, but Soi Fon had chosen that moment to appear, ninja-like at his elbow, and ask, “How is that Abarai doing?”

At first, of course, Byakuya thought she must mean Renji. He nearly told her that Renji was going to be deeply disappointed not to be considered for captaincy of the Fifth, until he remembered the brother: Seichi. 

“He proved extremely cooperative during a bandit attack on my supply train,” Byakuya informed her. Automatically, he raised the bowl in his hand to his lips only to remember belatedly that it was filled with god-awful strawberry-flavored punch and not tea. 

He managed, however, to control the face he wanted to make at it.

“Cooperative?” Soi Fon managed to sound both suspicious and impressed. “You must have some kind of magic over unruly Abarais.”

Humph. What was that supposed to mean? Byakuya decided the best strategy was to ignore the potential dig. “Seichi has settled into my gardening crew.”

“Is that so?” Again, she some how managed to sound like she knew something Byakuya didn’t. “It’s funny you say so, when one of my people reported they saw him hanging around at the Eleventh.”

Now Byakuya knew she was pulling his leg. “Obviously, your ninja spy is in need of corrective lenses. Or, perhaps she or he can not tell a ruffian from a thug.”

“I do hope so,” she said. “For your sake.”

Before Byakuya could react to her threat, she whisked away. 

Her exit, however, gave Byakuya all the permission he needed to leave this dreadful affair. Perhaps, on the way back to the estate, he would double-check with the head gardener that Seichi was indeed where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> And now a return to the plot.... 
> 
> QUICK NOTE OF EXPLANATION: In the Japanese subs of Bleach, Shinji and Gin do share a way of speaking, a regional accent, if you will. (Josey knows more about this, and if you're curious, maybe we can get her to chime in on the comments. :-)
> 
> Speaking of, thanks go to Josey for her help as usual! There would be SO many more typos without her (and the story would be far less rich and detailed.)


End file.
